


Remembrance

by aboutmalfoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Ghost Harry, Ghostwhisperer!AU, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Nonmagic!AU, One Shot, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 18:24:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9915293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aboutmalfoy/pseuds/aboutmalfoy
Summary: Harry is an earthbound spirit; Bryce can see the dead. Can she help Harry find peace?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I’m absolutely positive that something like this had to of been written somewhere before, but I wrote it as an exercise because I really miss the show. And then I was told to just post it by, of course, H. So here we are. You don’t have to of seen ghost whisperer to understand this, since this isn’t a crossover, the only connection is the show’s premise (but you should still totally go binge it if you haven’t lol).

 

Bryce was so drained she thought she could sleep for three days. But sleep didn't seem to be in the cards. She let out a long, aggravated breath and sat up, getting out of bed and wrapping her robe around her to fight the chill. She stomped down the stairs in her fuzzy slippers and threw open her front door, marching down the street towards the possibly drunk teenager who would not stop yelling for someone named Sirius to “open the bloody door.” 

"Oi! Is everything alright out here?" Bryce demanded, rubbing her eyes. It must have been as early as four in the morning, she thought. 

The boy had flinched at her voice and went quiet, turning around to train shocking green eyes on her. "You can see me?" 

She nearly groaned aloud. Her Nana had warned her that she needed to figure out if people were spirits or not before engaging them, but she often forgot. Especially when it was so early in the morning. "Yes," she admitted tiredly. "I can see you." 

"You're the only one who's been able to see me for days," he told her. "It's like everyone's gone blind and deaf." 

That explained the shouting about the door. Aware spirits would have simply walked through it. He didn't know he was dead. "Do you know... how long it's been?" 

"What?" 

"Since anyone could see you," she clarified. "Do you know how long it's been?" 

"Oh. I think maybe like a week? I don't really remember. For a while I thought it was some kinda prank or something. But then Sirius..." He trailed off, shaking his head. 

"Do you remember what happened, right before you noticed no one could see you?" 

His hand came up to grip his dark nest of hair in distress. "The field. We—me and my friends—we were at the school. Stayed after the game." 

 

`&`

 

_ "God I hate these bleachers!!!" Harry screeched as he ran up them, knocking his ankles against the metal a few times like he used to when he was running for his life, read:marks. It was late, the crowd had already left, but the lights were still on, so it wasn't dark for the team.  _

_ "At least we don't have gym anymore, no more running up and down being tortured," Ron pointed out.  _

_ "Isn't that the glorious truth!" Neville hollered. The other guys laughed, everyone was still on a high from the win—among other reasons. Even Malfoy was upbeat, having scored the final goal. Harry could see him smiling several rows down. Harry was at the very top now, feeling tall and dizzy in the best way. This was the fifth straight win of the season, and they'd wiped the floor with the other team. They had every right to celebrate.  _

_ "Planning to join us little people?!" Ron called up from the ground, but he was grinning so wide Harry could see his teeth.  _

_ "Potter paying attention to the little people? Not very likely," Malfoy sang loudly. Harry could only laugh, because Malfoy didn't sound the slightest bit serious. Even he was too pleased to be a dick tonight. Harry loved it when Malfoy smiled, though he'd never admit that to anyone. Even if people accepted that he was bent, there would be hell to pay if anyone found out about his stupid crush on Malfoy of all people.  _

_ "Oh sod off, Malfoy," Ron said without bite, starting to climb up to Harry. He was clearly exhausted, limbs sluggish, the adrenaline of the evening having long worn off. But Harry was nothing if not patient. Okay, that was a total lie. He was anything but. Sometimes he thought that was why he belonged in midfield. He turned to peer down the side, feeling a lot higher up than he'd ever felt on the bleachers before. It was probably because he was a little high, the kind that didn't require climbing to the top row. He looked up at the sky, wishing the lights would turn off so he could see the stars instead. In the next second, everything tilted sideways. _

 

`&`

 

"We were, well mostly me, I was high... maybe that's why I can't remember," Harry admitted sheepishly. 

"I don't think that's why," Bryce told him, trying to be as careful with her words as possible.

"What do you mean?" 

"When you stumbled," she prompted. "You said you were scared?"

"Thought I was gonna drop straight off yeah. But I caught myself." 

"Did you?" she asked, hating that she'd instinctively lowered her voice. 

"What's  _ that  _ supposed to mean?" 

"Did you catch yourself?" she repeated. She'd always hated this part the most. 

"I'm standing here aren't I?" he said, sounding like he was starting to wonder at her intelligence. "I'd be in the hospital if I hadn't, don't you think?" 

She groped for something to say. In all her experience, coming right out with the truth never had the desired effect. It was always better that they figure it out themselves, but she didn't know how else to get him to remember. She could only look at him.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Harry demanded. "What's wrong?" 

Out of options, Bryce took a deep breath. "I have a gift, Harry," she began. "I can see spirits. People who have... well, people who have died but haven't passed on." 

Harry's eyed her warily. "Um. I'm not sure why you're telling me this."

She watched silently as bright green eyes widened in realisation and then horror. "I did fall," he breathed. "I... oh God. I remember now, the pain. Everything hurt so much, my whole body. But, but then it stopped. I got up. I-I was fine..." 

"But no one can see you anymore," she reminded him, wishing that she didn't have to. 

"You're saying I'm dead," he snapped. "That's what you're telling me." 

"I am so sorry."

Harry slowly shook his head back and forth, like he wasn't quite aware he was doing it. "No," he denied. "No I, I can't be dead. I'm eighteen. I haven't done  _ anything _ , lived at all. I'm supposed graduate this year!" He stopped then, it was a long, silent moment before he whispered, "I'm dead." 

She opened her mouth, at a loss of how to comfort him. But he disappeared before she could say another word. Bryce didn't get any more sleep that morning. 

 

`&`

 

"God!" Bryce couldn't hold back her scream. She'd been peeling potatoes, turned around to wash her hands, and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Harry sitting on her kitchen counter next to the sink. It took her a while to get her heart rate back down, and then she glared at him. "You can't just—this is my flat!" 

He looked at her with empty green eyes. "I'm sorry," he said. "You're just... the only one who can hear me." 

His obvious sorrow helped put everything back into perspective, and she released a calming breath. "I've had this gift all my life. And it's my job to help you, help those like you to... move on." 

"Move on," he repeated, like the words were something foreign and strange. 

"Cross over," she added, "into the next life." 

He stared at her for a long time before he dropped his gaze, murmuring something she didn’t quite catch. “Sorry?”

He met her eyes again, fear and hope at obvious war within them. “I said, will my parents be there?”

Bryce had thought she couldn’t of felt worse for this boy, but to find out that he had been an orphan in life nearly brought tears to her eyes. As she often did with spirits, she kept them at bay. It never did them any good to see her cry. “I believe they will be, yes.” 

One would assume something like that would be the ultimate motivator. But a moment later, he shook his head firmly in refusal. "I can't go," he said. "Sirius, my friends. They all still need me. I'm just meant to leave them?" 

She sighed, sympathy threatening to break her. "It can seem like you're supposed to stay. But you can't help them. They're grieving. The best way to comfort them is for you to be at peace." 

He only blinked at her. "No," he finally replied. "I can't. I'm not ready." 

"Harry—" 

"Just stop," he said, sudden anger coating his voice. "I'm not crossing anywhere. I don't need your help." And then he vanished again. 

 

`&`

 

Days went by before Bryce saw Harry's spirit again. She'd kept her eye out, but it was as though he was purposely hiding from her. When she finally noticed him, he was sitting on a bench in front of what must’ve been his high school. She didn’t hesitate before she was pulling into the parking lot, hoping that he wouldn't be gone before she could get out of the car. But when she walked up, he only looked at her, remaining silent until she sat down. 

"Stalking me now?" he asked, a small smile on his lips. "I'm dead, how's that even still possible?" 

She couldn't help her grin. "Egotistical much? I saw you by chance, in fact." 

"You sound like Malfoy," he said. 

There was an incredible range of emotion in the name. "Friend of yours?" 

To her surprise, he only barked out a sharp, bitter laugh. "No. He'd probably have a coronary if he heard you say that." 

Bryce looked at him in confusion, earning a dejected sigh. 

"We're... we  _ were  _ rivals, sort of. He's a bit of an arse. We've never really gotten along. He," he cut himself off with a genuine laugh this time, a memory playing in his eyes. "When we first met, he said something fucked up about my best mate. We've been at each other's throats since then." 

"Long time to hold a grudge," she commented. 

"It's not that," he said. "He's just a prick. Always has some quip to make. Bloody insufferable."

"But?" she prodded.

Green eyes glanced sideways at her. "What makes you think there's a but?" 

"Isn't there?" 

His shoulders hunched. "I never told him," he said after a minute. "And now I'm dead and he's gonna go his whole life thinking I actually hated him because I never told him." 

"I can tell him for you, whatever it is," she promised. "Sometimes passing on a message is how spirits get closure."

His whole body stiffened, jaw locking. "Again with your  _ moving on _ shite?" he griped. "I told you I don't need your help. Besides, you don't have a prayer. Convincing Draco Malfoy that Harry Potter was in love with him? No chance." 

"That's where you've been isn't it?" she questioned, dismissing his rant. "You're following him." 

"So what? He doesn't even seem upset. I died and he's perfectly perfect as he ever was. Hell, he's probably  _ happy _ , the arse." 

"You don't really believe that, do you?" 

Harry rolled his eyes, but looked away. "Look. Maybe you didn't hear me the other day. You're off the hook. I really don't need you to help me, just leave it alone." 

"I wish I could," Bryce informed the empty air.

  
  


`&`

 

"Draco Malfoy?" 

It was a blond young man that responded to Bryce's voice. The other players, all in various stretching positions, looked towards him. 

"That'd be me," he said, standing and brushing off grass. "Do I know you?" 

"My name is Bryce Erickson. I need to talk to you, would you mind if we walk?" 

The group of boys all looked at him in confusion, but he shrugged his shoulders at them all, as if to say  _ no idea. _ He walked over to her, not speaking until he was out of his team’s hearing range. "What's this about?" 

"Don't do this," Harry said, appearing next to her. "I told you to leave it alone." 

She ignored him. "Harry Potter, the, uh, boy who died here." 

The blond's expression practically turned to stone. "Potter," he spit. "Of course. Been dead two bloody months and he's still bothering me." 

"Two months?" she said, forcing herself not to shoot a glance at Harry. There was no telling whether or not he knew how long he'd really been dead.

Draco rolled his eyes impatiently. "What about Potter?" 

"I was told that the two of you were... um," she wasn't sure how to go about this. "Well not  _ close  _ but..." 

"Were you planning to actually tell me something at any point today or?" 

Bryce bristled. 

"I told you he's insufferable," said Harry. 

"Did you really hate him?" she tried. 

Draco blinked slowly. "Of course I did," he said. "What of it?" 

She looked at Harry for a fraction of a second before she remembered she shouldn't. It was enough, though, judging by the way the blond's eyes narrowed. 

"Are you planning to tell me what you want," he bit out, "or not." 

"I think that this is an act," she said, squaring her shoulders and ignoring the way Harry pressed his knuckles against his eyes in her peripheral vision. 

"Excuse me?" 

"I think you're putting on a scarily believable facade," she went on. "But that's what it is, a facade. Because underneath all that bluster and attitude you're wearing like a shield, I think you're grieving." 

The boy's mouth had fallen open, without his notice it seemed, since he promptly snapped it shut. "What kind of a game are you playing?" he demanded angrily. "What the fuck do you know about anything?" 

"You cared about him," she insisted. "I can see it in your eyes." 

"You're insane," Draco spit, and turned away. 

"Tell him I wish I'd shook his hand," Harry blurted, clearly worried he wouldn't get another chance to tell the blond anything.

"He wishes he'd shook your hand!" 

Draco stopped, his body rigid, and spun around. He started toward her, a sneer on his lips as he got in her face. "I don't know who the fuck you are lady, or what you think you're playing at, but if you don't get the fuck off this field—" 

"Woah, hey, what's going on here?" one of the other players asked, appearing from the side and grabbing onto Draco. Holding him back, apparently. Bryce thought she'd never seen two people who contrasted so sharply. 

"That's Blaise," Harry supplied. 

"It's alright, Blaise," she assured him. 

"We've met?" he asked, an easy smile on his face. 

"No you haven't," Draco growled. "She's obviously been  _ stalking  _ me." 

Bryce sighed, finally admitting to herself that maybe showing up here had been a rash thing to do. "Just, when you're ready to talk about what you're feeling." She pulled out one of the cards for her shop and held it out to the blond. "Please."

Draco promptly scoffed and walked away. Blaise sighed, taking the card from her. "I'll, uh, hold on to it for him." 

"Thank you," she said, watching as he turned and followed Draco back to their team mates. 

"That went well," Harry said sarcastically. 

"I've dealt with worse," she said, though she wasn't sure it was true. 

 

`&`

 

"Draco?" his mother said with a gentle knock. "Pansy is here." 

"Tell her to leave!" Draco shouted back. 

"I can hear you!" sang the voice of his best friend on the other side of the door. 

"I'm sorry honey," he could hear his mom tell her. "He's been in there all day. I haven't seen him like this since..." 

"I know," Pansy said. "Wish me luck, I'm going in." 

Draco's door creaked open, and he covered his face with a pillow, not wanting her to see how much of a wreck he was. 

"Sitting in the dark, really Draco?" she tisked. "How dramatic." 

"I'm pretty sure I told you to leave," he said, knowing she'd understand him despite his muffled voice. 

He felt her sit down on his bed. "Not until you talk to me. Blaise said something happened last night? Some woman upsetting you? Who was she?" 

"I already told Blaise that she was mad," he said. "Wanted to talk about Potter, of all things." 

"So this  _ is  _ about Potter." 

Draco huffed, tossing the pillow off his face and sitting up. Seeing his tear stained face didn't seem to shock Pansy in the slightest, she only looked sad. Draco sighed. "She said—the woman, she said  _ he wishes he'd shaken your hand. _ I mean, how could she even know about that in the first place?" 

"Did you ask her?" Pansy inquired. "Blaise said you looked ready to attack her before he stopped you." 

"Oh please," Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I do have some self control. And no I didn't ask, that's gotta be the kind of answer you don't actually want." 

Pansy scooted closer to him, her voice full of horrible sympathy. "This isn't good for you, Draco. He's gone, and you haven't let yourself feel it. Acting like you're okay wasn't working when he died and it's not working now." 

"What right do I have to feel anything?" he demanded. The question had come flying, unbidden, out of his mouth before he could stop it. It had been the question that he’d been asking himself for months, since the very second he’d watched Potter’s body hit the ground, and those beautiful green eyes had fixed on him and then dimmed. When that passionate, incredible heart had stopped beating.  _ What right do I have to feel anything?  _  "He hated me and everyone knows it. I'm not gonna cry about him like some ch-charity case." Or at least, he didn't want to. He closed his eyes in attempt to stop even more tears from flowing. But he didn't resist when Pansy pulled him into her arms.

 

`&`

 

Draco almost couldn't believe he'd let himself be convinced to come here. He was surrounded by old, useless junk he thought his mother would spend hours browsing through. What the purpose of any of this stuff was he couldn't say, but he wasn't here for the merchandise. He walked up to the counter, and then jumped nearly three feet backwards when the woman he was looking for bolted upright from behind it. Her blue eyes widened when she took him in, and then she softened, smiling carefully at him. 

"It's you," she said. 

"Blaise gave me that card," Draco explained by way of reply. 

"Right of course," she said. "I'm so glad you came by." 

Draco had to put genuine effort into not rolling his eyes. He didn't want to offend the woman before he got answers. "You," he started, then cleared his throat and tried again. "I need to know how you knew." 

"Knew?" she asked. 

"About the handshake that never was," he clarified. "I want to know who told you about it." 

Bryce rested her hands against the counter and released a breath in what seemed like resignation. "Harry did," she told him. 

He wanted to demand to know when, but he kept himself calm. "But I'd never seen you before," he said. "How did you know Potter?" 

"I didn't," she said. "Not in life." 

Draco could only blink. "What?" he finally managed. 

"I met Harry a few days ago," said Bryce quietly. "He just wants to be at peace." 

All at once, everything she'd done made sense. As soon as it clicked, Draco began to laugh. He couldn't even say why it was funny, he'd never been so successfully fooled in his life. "Oh my God," he chuckled. "I can't believe I almost fell for this. You really are just some heartless lunatic." 

And then he turned and marched towards the door, feeling worse than stupid. Almost betrayed. But what had he really expected to gain here, anyway?

"He remembers," Bryce called at his back. Draco could practically hear Pansy in his head telling him to give it a few more minutes. He'd promised her he'd find out what he needed to know here, and if he couldn't do that, he at least didn't want to leave with more questions. He stopped, not turning, and waited for the rest of what this lady to say. 

"That party Blaise threw sophomore year," she continued, and Draco whipped around to stare at her while she spoke. "And you both were in the basement, he says you were too pissed to question if you should be hanging out with him. And for once you didn't have anything—er, anything mean to say about his glasses or hair or coordination. You were just sloshed. Laughing. And he remembers he asked you if you had thought about it. He said  _ You ever wonder about us, Malfoy? Like, what if we could be friends?  _ And you pretended like you were thinking about it, but he says he could see the way your face lit up. And you said _ I don't know Potter, ask me when I'm sober.  _ But he never did, was too nervous to. He regrets that." 

Draco's mind had gone to static with disbelief. "This is so impossible," he could only whisper. "This is not possible. You can't know that, there's  _ no  _ way you could know that." 

"He wants me to tell you that you have every right to feel it," she told him. "That he wants you to have cared. It doesn't matter what other people think." 

He knew there was no other logical way that this stranger could possibly know what Draco had told Pansy in his room yesterday. Absolutely none. Pansy would never have breathed anything to anyone, especially not word for word. Which meant that someone else had to of heard him. Someone only this woman could see. 

"Potter?" he nearly flinched at the rasp in his voice when he said the name.

"He says he's dead, oh that's not nice," she chastised towards what looked like an empty corner of the room. "I'm not saying that. He wants you to call him Harry." 

Draco's throat tightened. "Can you tell him—" 

"He can hear you," she assured him. "All you have to do is talk." 

"I never hated you, Harry," Draco blurted out, feeling tears gather in his eyes. "I thought I did, but I–I just wanted you to see me. I thought it was better to be hated by you then to be nothing to you. I'm sorry for all the things I said about you or your friends, and God your parents. I never meant a word of it." 

"He says he knows that," Bryce said softly. "And he wants you to know that he never hated you either. He's still here because he never told you the truth. He can't move on until you believe that he loved you." 

Draco's heart dropped into his stomach at the words. Had she really just said...? "Loved me," he breathed. "As in..." 

"He was in love with you. He still is." 

Draco closed his eyes against the tears, but they fell anyway. "I love you too. I loved you since before I could even understand that that's what it was. I–I wish I'd told you. I wish you were still..." He couldn't finish, he could hardly even breathe.

"He knows," Bryce said once Draco had reopened his eyes. "He says he wishes that he had a lifetime to get to really know you. To hear you laugh like you did in the basement. He says he—that he wishes he'd gotten to kiss you. He's... he's telling you goodbye." 

"Oh God," Draco choked, clutching his chest, trying futilely to keep his heart in one piece. He knew that he should be glad, that Harry was going to see his parents again and find happiness. But all Draco wanted was to beg him to stay. 

"Yes," he heard Bryce whisper. "It's for you." 

"What?" Draco asked. 

"He sees it," she told him, her eyes shining with tears. "His light. He's ready to cross over." 

Draco could feel him now, knew somehow that the boy he loved was right in front of him. And he nearly gasped aloud when he felt the gentlest touch against his lips. He let his eyes fall closed, knowing what this was. A first and only kiss. A kiss goodbye. And then it was over, and he felt more alone than he had in his entire life. 

"He's gone," Bryce told him. 

"I know," Draco said, and his knees hit the floor. 

  
  



End file.
